


No Turning Back

by Feral_Fic_Writer



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega Turning, Bondage, Canon-Typical Violence, Gang Rape, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pegging, Ramsay is his own warning, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-05-29 07:13:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6364471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feral_Fic_Writer/pseuds/Feral_Fic_Writer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in the A/B/O universe. </p><p>Did you know that before the Boltons adopted the more refined insignia of the "Flayed Man," their family crest had been the "Turned Alpha"? Theon certainly had no awareness. Unfortunately, now he's about to learn this bit of Bolton family history in a very personal way, and find out too, just how devoted Ramsay is to keeping alive all the clan's traditions.</p><p>It's GOT and Thramsay, but if you want me to throw in "Read the Tags," "Dark Fic," "Torture Porn"... For your benefit, I'm certainly happy too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Impending

**Author's Note:**

> The first few chapters of this are a re-envisioning of GOT tv series canon. All credit goes to the original authors and no infringement is intended.
> 
> So, I have been skulking about this fandom after getting obsessed with Theon/Reek and his "relationship" with Ramsay, but this is the first time for me to throw my hat into the ring. 
> 
> I have to warn you, long as it's been out, I am relatively new to GOT. So, if I do something unforgivable in terms of character or mess up on my details, please let me know. I could use the instruction.
> 
> Also, I have troubled eyes, thus my strange formatting with really short paragraphs. It might annoy some, but I have to be able to read what I'm writing. So thanks for enduring.
> 
> Okay... Hope you enjoy it... though "enjoy" never seems the right word with this pair.

 

* * *

As it was pressed open, the shriek of the cell’s heavy door turned to a whine. Every tortured muscle of Theon’s lean frame instantly stiffened. He bit back his own sounds, stirring raw in his throat. 

Although successful in keeping silent, he was unable to refrain from instinctively sniffing. Bloodied nostrils flared. With his first sharp inhale, suffocating, rough fabric sucked against the tender flesh of split lips. Inside the fetid hood he’d worn for days,Theon sniffed again. While the thick cloth dulled his senses, it had never been a truly effective barrier against Snow’s feral alpha odor.

 _Ramsay’s._ A panicked voice inside Theon’s throbbing head corrected.

_Ramsay Bolton. Forget the other name please. We need to call him what he wants. We can’t afford to get confused again… It hurts… Too Much…_

Theon’s internal alpha growled, snapping out at this small, pleading part of himself.

The man who held him captive might demand he address him as such outloud, but internally he refused still, despite the torture. To call him “Ramsay” was too intimate and undeserved the for one who’d intruded too far already upon his battered body. “Bolton” denied his bastardy.

So for Theon, his tormentor remained “Snow.”

Once more, Theon pulled air into his swollen nose, scenting. Since he’d lost their pivotal game of “run around,” whatever potion Bolton’s bastard had initially used to hide his signature, gain his trust initially, the man was no longer using it.

There was no need to mask now.

The revelation of his captor’s true scent had been yet another not so subtle form of torture. Reeking of bad blood and madness, Snow’s sour odor permeated everything when present and lingered long after he’d gone. The smell made Theon’s stomach churn. Earlier, when he was still foolish enough to think he could “out alpha” Snow, he had told his tormentor as much. Shouted it at him, in fact.

This turned out to be just another one of a thousand terrible mistakes Theon had made in his life and was now dearly paying for.

Breath stuttering, it took longer than it should have for him to realize his tormentor’s smell truly remained absent; that his present visitor… or visitors, from the sounds he could hear over the pound of his heartbeat, were not Snow. His racing heart slowed slightly, furthered by the absence as well of the _shit/sweat/angry_ scent of the bastard boy’s alpha crew: his second most frequent callers.

In place of these anticipated alphic stinks was nothing.

 _Beta then_ , Theon determined: their light neutral odor too weak to break through the hood.

He slumped in relief. Taut as his limbs were stretched by the saltire, they communicated an almost impossible amount of relax.

A tiny bit of hope flickered in his chest. He knew the scent of his impending rut would normally drive other alphas to avoid him. It seemed perhaps this was working in his favor since, for the last three days, his alpha torturers had stayed away. Instead, a pair of beta men had brought him food and drink, released him from his cross and hood for a time, before dousing him with a bucket of frigid water, administering a perfunctory beating, and tying him back upon the timbers.

Scream-strained ears listened harder. The patter of slippers, not the heavy trod of booted feet, confused Theon’s already fear-rattled brain. It was only when slim fingers brushed against filthy skin and his bonds were loosened, he understood today his visitors were women.

Apparently not all pride had been thrashed from his Ironborn flesh. As if this could hide his missing fingers, Theon’s hands clenched into fists at the thought anyone of the fair sex should see him in this state. Within the blackness of the hood he winced at the flex of tender nubs, barely healed. But this was nothing compared to the psychic sting of the gentle hands tending him.

He was an alpha, a lord, soldier and son, but Snow’s capacity for cruelness had been beyond anything he had ever imagined and the cracks made in him were still splitting. Despite these fractures Theon longed to think he was holding fast.

However, his second voice, one he'd long carried within him, but had found its true birth in this dungeon, was far more honest than his first. It called out the truth to him every chance it could. Told him he was breaking newly everyday. Had been broken already, in ways that could not be re-assembled.

With these thoughts echoing inside him, the pride that flushed Theon mere seconds before ebbed like the tide.

The women continued their soft fluttering over his skin. Their touch reminded him of the kind of comforts he’d given up long before he’d ever even popped his first knot. Suddenly, Theon wanted nothing more than to curl into the soft chest of one of his yet, unseen attendants and weep like a pup.

Forced to confront his weaknesses, yet again, fresh shame burned fevered cheeks. Theon struggled to reign in his emotions, but found them stronger than he at the moment. It didn’t help that, in addition to the havoc a daily diet of torture had wreaked on his person, his approaching rut unmoored him further.

The flares of rage that he usually used as a gauge were useless, having experienced waves of this throughout the entirety of his imprisonment. But the increased sensitivity of his skin, the unwanted ache in his groin accompanied by the random filling of his cock, maddening when he was tied with no hand available to ease himself, left Theon figuring he had another dawn, maybe two, before it was fully on him.

Not that this was easy to track in this sunless realm he’d been relegated to.

As his time approached, the dark dread that lived in his core had grown fat and heavy. His ruts were always difficult, especially away from home, but bearable, he’d found. At least, as long as there wasn’t an omega present to push him into full frenzy. Fortunately, with female omegas being rare and highly treasured, and male omegas rarer still and so reviled, Theon knew the likelihood of encountering one here in his torture chamber was near impossible.

Despite all he had endured, Theon thanked his drowned God for this. Whatever new hell Snow planned to inflict on him, if he returned while he was vulnerable, in the grasp of his rut, as long as he wasn’t frenzied, Theon thought he just might live through it. Although he had to acknowledge, right now, living didn’t hold quite the appeal it used to.

Theon startled as the hated hood was suddenly pulled off. His morbid thoughts shattered in the brightness that assaulted his eyes.

“Put out a couple of those torches until Lord Greyjoy’s eyes adjust.”

Lids scrunched tight, mouth too parched to thank whoever the light voice belonged to, Theon dipped his head in gratitude. Delicate fingers grazed his jaw, caught at his chin, and lifted his bowed head.

Tipped back, Theon felt the press of a wineskin to his lips.

He’d been suffering hours from a terrible thirst, so he momentarily forgot the gender of his attendants, forgot caution completely, in fact. Stretching his lips like a babe seeking tit, he suckled the skin’s spout greedily. Before greeting his parched throat, the wine, rich and almost too sweet, burned torn sockets emptied of teeth. This complex combination of sensations made Theon tremble. Mortified when this response drew giggles from his attendants, he cracked his eyes to glare at them.

Initially he could still barely see, let alone dominate with a glance, but after a few moments he saw his new wardens were maids.

There were two of them.

Squinting eyes reluctantly focused, first, on the dark-haired beauty standing before him, holding the skin. Then, the blonde, off to the side, who’d dimmed the lights and now returned to working on his bindings.

Catching the eye of the beta wine-bearer, Theon was stunned by the woman’s playful smile. His hollow guts clenched. Though so out of place in this dungeon, he’d seen just such a look before. _Often_. It was the kind of teasing grin Snow offered him, just before something terrible happened.

The wine, fresh in Theon’s empty stomach, soured. He coughed, his mouth suddenly overfull.

Pulling the skin away, the woman pointed a slender finger at him and pressed in. Her fingertip caught a thin trail of the crimson juice now dripping from his chin and drug it down his stretched throat. Theon gulped as her finger dipped further. The light drag of it never lifting, she traced his bare torso from collarbone to just above his covered crotch. The touch sparked Theon's building rut reflex. His low belly quivered and his cock twitched to life.

“My dear, Lord Greyjoy… My friend and I had hoped to leave you quaking, but you’re making this far too easy for us.”

His wine-soothed throat struggled to work again, but these words left Theon speechless.  His mind, meanwhile, whirled at this bizarre shift in circumstances.

The rational part of his brain screamed “trap!” and “danger!” He’d been forced into too many games with Snow at this point to think two such luscious ladies would suddenly show up and free him. And to entertain that they’d _want_ him, as the woman’s words implied, in the state he was in - filthy, weakened, wounded - was ridiculous.

With his rut so close, however, Theon’s capacity for reason in the presence of these betas’ ripe beauty quickly fled him. New blood thrummed into his groin and his already weighted balls grew heavier by the second. His coated tongue flickered out to dampen cracked lips. Theon wanted to speak, to question, but the words still wouldn’t come. So, instead, he remained silent. His stiff neck audibly creaked, head turning from side to side, gaze flickering between the women, now both untying him.

The last lashing loosed, he tumbled forward. The foot Ramsay had spiked refused to hold any of his weight without the support of the cross’ timbers. Despite the gravity of his injuries, Theon was humiliated to find himself caught and all but carried by his two attendants.  

When he realized the maids intended to deposit him upon the short sofa, recently installed within his chamber, he pulled back. The cowering psychic splinter that festered within him constantly now suddenly carried the weight of a beam. It overwhelmed, and low whine escaped him.

It frightened Theon that he couldn’t discern if the sound belonged to the second voice or if it was his own. Not that it mattered: their sentiments were the same.

That was Snow’s spot.

_Ramsay’s spot._

He had been laid out before it often enough of late to know it’s significance. It was the throne from which his jailer teased and terrorised. It was where the bastard reclined while he watched his human tools of torture work, recovered between his “games.” As such, the cost of getting caught trespassing here would be beyond substantial.

Terror flooded Theon’s core. He balked, not caring about the reaction of his escorts. It was a very sad state of affairs when he realized the women flanking him were stronger than he at present.

_Am I truly so incapacitated or was there something in the wine?_

Regardless, the women’s grip on him remained firm as they steered him to the couch. His mouth worked in silent protest as they pushed him down onto it.

“Our poor Lord, you’ve suffered so much. You need to rest.”

Despite the false compassion clear in the words, Theon ceased resisting almost instantly. At the sudden shifting in position, every muscle overwrought from his hours on the cross screamed at him. He was capsized by the pain and the velvet cushions beneath held him so wonderfully.

“Lord Ramsay’s hospitality has obviously put a strain upon you person, dear sir Greyjoy. So, unfair.

“We’d like to make amends.”

So far only the dark-haired beauty had spoken. She tipped her head, her large eyes, catlike, regarded him. “Have you any suggestions as to how we might soothe you?…”

“I know a balm that can restore the soul of most any man…  Alpha especially.” The blonde answered, joining in at last when it became clear Theon would or could not answer them.

She stepped up beside the dark beta and reached out. Theon’s still-sensitive eyes widened, disregarding the sting of the torchlight. He watched. With a few skillful motions, just as she’d freed him from the cross, the blonde released her companion from the bonds of her dress. The layered material split like a cocoon; it slid down to the filthy floor of the cell with a sigh. Perfect, pale flesh stepped from its husk. Theon’s mind spun at the sight, but his cock was steadfast. It pulsed to fullness so fast it pulled a soft groan from him.

The sound was cut off immediately by a slim finger pressed to his lips.

“Shhhhh now. Discretion, my Lord.”

The finger was switched for a thumb. The dark-haired woman rubbed this across Theon’s lower lip; the light pressure enough to reopen the broken flesh there.

“But I am pleased to see that you’re rousing already.”

An instant later, Theon found himself trapped, shoulders pressed to the padded backrest at the end of the couch, his hips pinned beneath the brunette beta’s supple thighs. He could feel the heat and the wet of her cunt through the soiled, threadbare trousers he wore, his only clothing.

An open-mouthed gasp caught him as she slipped up just a bit higher to frott against his rut-readying cock. At the same moment, she slid her thumb between his newly-bloodied lips, the pad pressing and stroking his tongue.

The peaks of her nipples scored the scabbed surface of his chest as she leaned forward; Theon’s own budded immediately in response. Full, soft lips pressed to his ear.

“Lord Ramsay’s boys have been talking about you, Lord Greyjoy. And when alphas can’t help but comment on the size of another alpha’s cock...” Hot breath stroked over Theon’s cheek and a teasing kiss caught the corner of his mouth. “A girl’s bound to become curious.”

“And were Damon and Skinner telling the truth, Myranda?”

Wild blue eyes sought the voice above him. Theon struggled to look up, but the firm thumb in his mouth found a cracked tooth, one of many, and pressed. The ache of it wrought a soft, broken sound from him. Theon was amazed such a petit digit could hold such power, but it kept his head locked in position. He was hooked like a fish.

Gaze settling back on the woman astride him, _Myranda;_ she rewarded him with a sly grin and a skilled grind against his rigid cock.

“Oh, yes.” Myranda’s voice was breathy. A noise remarkably close to purr rumbled within her chest as she pulsed her hips. “And then some.”

The thumb left Theon’s mouth when Myranda shifted. Bracing herself, she dug her fingers into his pecs for better leverage as she rubbed rough against him.  Her hardened clit grazed his shaft through the thin cloth holding his cock captive. The friction of the fabric on the pre-rut tender flesh brought tears to Theon’s eyes.  A broken growl rumbled up and caught in his throat.

The sound only spurred Myranda on. She answered back with a growl of her own. Then, quickly, she shifted back far enough to pull Theon’s loose trousers down. The moment his rigid flesh was freed, she slid back into place, sighing happily at the hot, alpha cock, held now between her slicked lips.

Weeks of suffering, the drugged wine, and the light beta pheromones that filled the close quarters of his cell had left Theon dazed, but the kiss of such intimate skins jolted him back. Once more, he and the quailing animal part of himself he fought so hard to silence were in agreement. Rut be damned, these women belonged to his captor and dallying with them would only end in pain.

He started to struggle up, his mouth shaping words that lay too thick on his tongue to spit out. But he was not the only one to protest.

“No fair!”

A rustle of lace accompanied this sullen exclamation. Mouth no longer hooked, Theon glanced over to his side. His already rapid breaths quickened at the sight of the blonde beta stepping out of her dress now too. The woman cast a coy pout between Theon and his rider before stepping back behind him.

“You said we would share, Myranda. And there certainly looks like there’s enough there for both of us.”

“Oh, there is, Violet!” Myranda answered without ceasing her pulsating slide. “But I was here first. So while you wait, I suggest you take his mouth.

“It isn’t so broken that you shouldn’t be able to use it.”

Violet huffed at this. Theon strained his neck to look behind him, only to catch her dipping slender fingers into the cleft of her cunt. When she pulled them out, they glistened in the light of the torches. Leaning forward she caught his greasy hair in her other hand, holding him in place.

Wiping her juices over his lips, she sighed, “But I really wanted his cock too. And he barely looks in a state to go more than one round.”

She smiled watching Theon’s tongue involuntarily dart out to taste her slick. Violet giggled when he gasped and his pupils suddenly dilated. Down on Theon’s hips, Myranda gasped too.

“Why Violet… What did you do, you naughty girl? I swear Lord Greyjoy just added another plank to his timber this instant.”

Violet dipped down to her shucked garment and pulled a stoppered bottle from a pocket. She held it up where Theon could see it. “I brought a little helper with me. Something to give our Lord more stamina.”

Heat spiking in his core, Violet didn’t have to tell Theon what the bottle contained; his body had told him already. Pulse pounding in his ears, his mouth burned with the unmistakeable taste of omega.

Violet winked at him. “It’s an oil infused with the slick of an omega in heat.”

Theon groaned as the omega essence he’d tasted continued to work. His blood was split now, divided between wanting to rush to his head or his already painfully engorged cock.

Myranda laughed above him. It was not a warm sound. “Well played, Violet. You greedy girl! Give it here! I want to see!”

After tossing the bottle over, Violet’s hand returned between her thighs.

“I only used a drop and it’s made me _so_ wet…” She made a second swipe of her heat-tinted flavor over Theon’s cracked lips, yelping in surprise when her fingers were eagerly sucked into his mouth.

“So enthusiastic now,” Myranda teased, drawing a growl from him with another thrust of her hips. “If a drop will spur him on so, what might the whole bottle do?”

Her words somehow permeated the fog that had enveloped Theon’s brain. He all but spit Violet’s fingers out in horror, but it was too late. Myranda pulled the stopper and poured the bottle’s contents onto his bare chest.

The second the slick hit his flesh Theon began to pant. The smell of it filled his nostrils. Every cell of him was on fire and being stoked ever higher. Myranda roughly rubbed the fluid into his skin. The oil burned his open wounds, soaked into every cut and lash mark, and was absorbed into his system.

Within moments his rut knocked into him fully like a battering ram.

“Ohhhh. Something’s happening…” Myranda slid her slick hands down to Theon’s cock. Slipping it out from between her thighs she began to stroke it hard and fast.

Seeing the size of Theon’s filled alpha cock, Violet tittered wickedly. “You’re going to need a hand with that, My!” Scampering around the chaise, she joined Myranda.

Theon’s brain screamed at him to move, to flee while he still could, but he was caught in the frenzy now, release the only command his body seemed capable of obeying. Though there was nothing tying him down to the couch, no restraints but the warm hands encircling his cock, this was enough. The only movement Theon found himself able to make was the thrusting of his stiff hips into the fingers gripping him.

One of Myranda’s hands held him at the base of his cock, squeezing, urging the blood forward, calling his knot up. It had been so long since Theon had released, with his rut and the aphrodisiac slick, he felt it quickly forming. He groaned at the mixture of pleasure and pain as she milked his swell to fullness.

The woman was obviously skilled at handling alpha cock. Violet too, as she joined in. Above his knot, their combined three hands gripped and stroked. Though they were still not enough to cover the full length of his rut-swollen shaft, they worked him expertly.

Theon’s head crashed back against the arm of the couch. His eyes rolled back into his head as he rode the cusp of his coming. Lost in the sensation, teetering on the brink, he was deaf to the shuffling of feet as others entered through the still opened door of his cell.

Overcome by the drugs in the wine and the pungent omega slick blunting his nose, ground into his pores, he was oblivious to the swelling of alpha scent in the corners of his prison.

Caught in this place, his knot just fully popped and ready to spill, only made it that much more jarring when the harsh “Blatt!” of a hunting horn filled the chamber.

Theon’s eyes shot open. An alphic growl thundered in his chest at having his release disturbed. The sound was cut short, however, all breath crushed from his lungs when he realized who the trumpeter was. His second-self silently screamed, while the alpha in Theon roared up.

_RAMSAY!_

Ramsay strode forward. The women’s hands left Theon immediately as they scattered away from him.

“Sorry about that. Tsk… Such terrible timing.” Ramsay’s grin was feral. ”But I was getting jealous.

“Besides, you were being a little rude. Don’t you think? I mean, ravishing your host’s betas is hardly any way to show gratitude for my hospitality.”

Theon stared at his crazed captor. As he pushed himself up from the couch, the split parts of himself warred within. Despite his injuries, and the futility of it, his alpha wanted to charge. Meanwhile, the other, little cringing bit of him wanted to drop to all fours and skitter away.

The decision was taken away from both, however, when Theon stood. Broken foot throwing him off, he staggered. He’d barely begun to recover his balance before Ramsay dealt him a bone-rattling blow to the head with the hunting horn he carried.

Knocked momentarily senseless, Theon crashed to the floor. Breath pressed from his lungs, he lay on the stone gawping like a carp on a bank. It took him a few minutes to regain himself, but when Theon roused back, he realized Ramsay was above him, chattering away in that manic manner he had.

“That’s the problem with alphas. I know it myself. We just can’t seem to keep our cocks to ourselves. Especially an alpha with a steed grand as yours… Eh?”

Ramsay looked down and a furrow creased his brow at a spot of blood on his trumpet. He rubbed the brass with a crimson sleeve, polishing it clean before tossing it, clattering to the floor.

“Omegas on the other hand… Now they’re so much more manageable.” Ramsay tipped his dark head to the side. “Oh… that reminds me. I had actually come down here originally to invite you to join me on a hunt. I got word there was, in fact, a male omega seen here on the Fort’s grounds.”

Theon turned his head towards his captor, the room still spinning. His eyes widened as Ramsay began theatrically snuffling the air.

“Maybe I won’t have  to hunt so far out as I thought. Is it possible?… That the little _bitch_ I’m after is actually here?

“Certainly smells that way.”

Terror rose equally in Theon's split mind at these words. The horror of what Ramsay was possibly proposing had the voices in his head screaming in unison. Was the man actually talking about turning him? A practice considered so dishonorable, so barbaric, even the Wildlings condemned it.

But then this was Snow… _Ramsay!_

Frantic at the thought, Theon struggled to rise, to run, but his still stunned limbs refused to carry him.

In desperation, regardless of how it looked, he started to scrabble on his belly across the stone floor. He winced as his cock and the tender sac of his seed caught the rough rock. The burn of scraped skin made him hiss.

“Ah, I was right! I knew I could flush the bitch out!” Ramsay cackled behind him. “The hunt is on!”

“Hounds! Chase!”

Theon had only made it a few feet when heavy-booted feet appeared before him. Stepping out from behind a pillar suddenly were four of his past torturers, Ramsay’s boys- Damon, Skinner, Sour Alyn and Grunt.

Damon and Skinner each brought a foot down on one of Theon’s damaged hands, trapping him. At the weight of them, the crush of already cracked bones between heel and stone, his voice suddenly returned. Theon, all of him, screamed in pain.

Ramsay stepped up between his splayed legs and kicked them open wider and Theon’s wordless cries grew louder. Pants hanging half off his ass already, Ramsay grabbed the back of them and pulled, baring it completely. Crouching down behind Theon, Ramsay shot a hand between his legs.

Irregardless of  his terror or the abuse of the stone, Theon’s erection had not subsided. His knot still throbbed, tight and heavy with unreleased seed.

“Oh, my. Boys!” Ramsay’s hand sheathed the base of Theon’s cock and he gave it a hard tug.

“What a surprise…

“This doesn’t feel like an omega at all to me. Male bitches are so wonderfully dainty… And this….”

Theon kicked his legs desperately trying to drive Ramsay off. Another yell was ripped from his throat when Grunt and Sour Alyn stepped up and stomped on him. Each ground a weighted boot into the flesh of one of his calves pinning him.

“No… What I’m feeling here is a cock any alpha could be proud of.” Reasserting his grip between Theon’s legs, Ramsay went on as if there’d been no commotion.

“Tell me… Would you say you were? Proud of this strong alpha cock, I mean?”

Knot tugged hard again and twisted cruelly, Theon howled. Then Ramsay’s other hand slipped under him as well. Thick fingers held thin leather cording and within moments, the base of his cock was bound tight just below the tender knob of his knot.

“It just strikes me as such incongruence. Because you certainly smell like an omega bitch. Doesn’t he boys?”

“Ay! He reeks like a little, heated knot-slut. An omega hole that needs a good fucking!”

As his boys chorused around him, Ramsay leaned over Theon’s trembling back. He bit the lobe of his ear hard before whispering into it. “There's beauty in symmetry. What's say we make you congruent again. Eh?

"Scent and form in alignment... ”


	2. Rending

Ramsay rose from behind Theon and motioned to his crew.

“Come on, new bitch,” Damon shouted, “let’s get you turned!” Rough laughter filled the air as he and the rest of the boys grabbed the trembling figure at their feet.

Strong hands seized and hoisted Theon up from the floor. He struggled against them best he could. His already jackrabbiting heart skipped wilder. A fresh surge of adrenaline pulsed through his veins and while this did little for the terrible ache in his skull, the pain in the rest of his tortured body hushed in its frantic effort for flight.

His voice returned at last. The terrified noises he’d been making now spilled out as words: “Please!” and “Mercy!” rose above the ribald cackles of Ramsay’s boys.

Within him, Theon’s split-apart, was equally vocal. Rabid with fear, it shrieked at him to be silent and still. Not just because the forbidden phrases tumbling off his tongue would incense his warden, but also, he was covered in omega heat-scent and few things incited a roused alpha more than resistance.

All protests unheeded, Theon found himself thrown over the arm of the chaise. Belly pressed against it, facing the bench, his ass hung out over its edge. Seemingly out of nowhere, straps appeared before his stunned eyes. Despite still-thrashing limbs, within in moments Theon’s ankles were kicked apart and tethered to the legs of the couch. Hips lashed across its wide side-rest; his wrists were meanwhile bound and pulled down, connected to each other by a strap strung beneath the sofa’s belly.

Beside him, Skinner pulled a knife. Theon cried out in anticipation; his yell cut short when the blade came down. Moments later, Skinner stepped away leaving their prisoner gasping. Harsh breaths burned Theon’s throat. The deep slash he’d expected might have hurt less than the humiliation. Shallow scratches welled on his legs where his ragged trousers had been cut away, leaving him completely exposed.

Seized by a sense of unreality, Theon still couldn’t comprehend that anyone, even Snow, would actually do this. Meanwhile his splinter-self spun in circles, babbling that this was Ramsay.

_Ramsay!_

Who’d already proven himself capable of more than even the basest evils.

As if the man had heard this inner voice, Ramsay suddenly struck from where he’d been coiled on the sidelines. A sharp crack to an already bruised cheek and Theon fell frozen but for his hitching breath. Ramsay’s men quieted too. They stepped away from their handiwork, watching, waiting. Alphic arousal swirled fog-thick around them.

Stout fingers wound into greasy, blond hair. Theon’s head was wrenched up, neck stretched as far as it could go, tied as he was. Tears of terror and pain welled in his eyes. Blinking heavily, he silently begged them not to fall.

“Mercy, Snow…. Mercy… I’m sorry…”

The hand in his hair tugged, pulling him forward despite his bonds. Theon’s corded cock bumped the couch’s arm. He bit back a shriek. The leather ties behind his knot wouldn’t allow the blood to retreat and at this point it felt as though the barest pressure would rupture it.

“Sorry?... Mercy?...” Ramsay twisted his hand tighter in Theon’s bangs, grinning as his prisoner began to quietly sob. He leaned down close to a blood-crusted ear.

“But I have been so lenient with you already… and yet you remain still so... Stubborn.

“Not to mention incredibly stupid.”

“Is it really so difficult what I’ve asked you to learn? My name. Your name. A few simple tricks to entertain me while I host you?

“One would think a _prince_ would have more aptitude.”

Theon tried not to wince away from the flecks of spittle showered upon him by Snow’s hissed words. He wanted desperately to turn from the crazed gaze, piercing as the blades Snow had previously wielded against him, but he didn’t dare. Being slammed onto the chaise had jarred all his body’s pain back into him and his struggles awakened dozens of new ones.

Still pressed against the fat arm of the couch, his tied, knotted cock was in agony. But this was nothing compared to what he’d endure if Snow went through with his plan.

“Hear me…” Theon’s tongue felt too thick in his mouth; his voice was ragged from shouting. “Ple… I-I can learn… I will... R-Ramsay… I swear it.”

It was true. As much as his surrender shamed him, Theon knew he would do anything to make the pain stop. Anything to avoid being violated in this way. To escape such a fate.

“You _swear_ it?” Ramsay straightened but kept his hold in Theon’s hair.

“Hmmmm…” He pretended to think, drumming the fingers of his free hand against his prisoner’s sweating brow. Then he stopped. His hand went under Theon’s jaw, forcing his head up impossibly higher.

“Perhaps you could learn… but…”

“Please…” The word fell from Theon’s lips before he could catch it. He hissed as the hand in his hair tightened even more and he felt the skin of his scalp start to give. In an instant his captor’s face was mere inches from his own.

“See… This is exactly what I’m talking about. Stupid little cunt. Can’t keep a single thing I tell you in that over-pretty head of yours no matter how hard I knock it in..

“No… I was right before.” Ramsay’s voice was heavy with false regret. “I tried, really I did. But it’s too late now. You couldn’t learn your lessons as an alpha, but maybe as an omega things will be different.”

Theon wanted to gag, this close the rancid excitement wafting off the the other alpha drowned out even the powerful scent of the heated omega oil. Ramsay’s eyes glittered with malicious glee, his smile feral.

“No... “ Theon whispered in horror. “No… No… Mercy… I beg you…”

But there was nothing even remotely akin to mercy in Ramsay’s eyes, only cruel mirth. “Are you telling me “no”?”

He sighed as though terribly burdened. “See, every time you open that cunty little mouth of yours, you only confirm my decision. Let’s see if as a bitch, if your disposition, if not your intelligence can be improved upon. Yes?

“Omega bitches are born to be obedient, after all.”

Theon’s attention was so focused on Ramsay he didn’t notice Grunt had moved up alongside them.

“Since you’ve such difficulty retaining my lessons, let’s start your new training early.

“Now, one of the first lessons every bitch must learn is what it’s mouth is for.”

A cheer went up from the Bastard’s Boys and Theon cringed at the sound. From outside his scope of vision, Alyn hooted,“Certainly not talking!” .

Ramsay kept his grip. He stepped slightly away but never broke eye contact with his prisoner. “And for those rare times when you are called upon to answer,” his voice was mockingly scholarly, “the answer is never, “No.”

“Lets practice shall we? And seeing as you have such difficulty, Grunt here’s going to give you an aid.”

Suddenly Grunt’s huge, filthy paws appeared before Theon’s eyes. He howled in panic. At least, until he saw what the man held, then his mouth snapped shut. Ramsay kept his head in place and Theon’s tears could no longer be restrained when Grunt pinched his tender nostrils. Still, he held his breath until stars swam across his vision.

Finally, unable to endure the burn in his chest any longer, his mouth opened wide, gasping. He howled as Grunt forced the forged bit he’d held into it. The steel cut his lips, the insides of his cheeks; cold iron gouged sockets and rattled cracked teeth. Smithed into a large “O,” Theon’s jaws strained at size of the bit and how it prised them open. The flavor of the steel and the iron of blood filled his mouth, choking him.

It was only when Grunt had secured the leather straps, binding the bridle, Ramsay released his prisoner's head at last. He stepped aside to get a better look at his now bitted bitch and smirked in approval. Then he flung himself dramatically onto the chaise. Settling himself at the other end, snugging his back against the rest, his splayed legs fell over its backless sides. The posture exaggerated his tented breeches.

Ramsay rubbed his crotch and sighed.

Loosening the drawstrings he pulled his stiff cock out. Deep red, the tip almost purple, it was little more than average length for an alpha but incredibly thick. Theon couldn’t drag his eyes away from the sight, no matter much as he wanted to. An anguished whimper escaped him: if the man was that stout now, his knot would be enough to split a cunt apart.

“Oh, you think this for you?” Ramsay smirked. He addressed Theon in the tone one would talking to a pet or a small child. “Well, maybe later. But only if you’re _really_ good.” He pulled his hands away from his cock, left it out, jutting proudly up towards his belly.

“I know how much you’d like me to be your first, but I’m rather more keen on a show at the moment.”

Tucking his hands behind his dark head in a posture of leisure, Ramsay chuckled at Theon’s terrified confusion when Grunt next secured a strange-looking collar around his neck. The thick leather band sported a very short cape that draped over the tops of his shoulders.

“Besides, we’re going to have plenty of other firsts, you and I, after you turn. And right now it’s more than enough for me to know in this instance, while I have relinquished this first, I will be your last.”

At these words Theon’s body trembled hard enough to shiver the heavy sofa. His frightened eyes shifted from Ramsay only when Alyn stepped into view with a lit brazier. The man set it down where their prisoner could see it. Damon followed setting a knife and a couple of small brands into the brazier’s flames before disappearing behind him again. Deep in his throat, Theon made a garbled sound of horror.

Seeing how heavily Theon was drooling heavily from the bit already, Ramsay leaned forward. He caught a pink-tinged string, lifted this and fed it back into his becoming bitch’s gaping mouth, laughing at the additional broken sounds this elicited.

Ramsay traced bloody lips with a glistening finger.“What a wet hole. Shall I give you a matching pair?” His mad eyes flickered up and he nodded in silent signal.

Theon wailed and jolted forward, his restraints biting into his flesh at the feel of the heated oil Damon dripped down his crack. It wasn’t hot enough to scald, but it stung the sensitive skin of his hole, burned as it ran down his taint, singed his tightly drawn sac.

“Not too much now, Damon.” Ramsay leaned back again and resumed his earlier pose. “He needs to tear some for the turning to start, the mix of blood and seed, you know. But there’s no need for you and the rest of the boys to be uncomfortable.”

Even before Damon’s thick finger circled his hole and then none too kindly pressed in, Theon began shouting, begging though he couldn’t form words.

Ramsay laughed. “Oh the sounds you make! Are you really so eager? Boys, we better not keep our little bitch waiting!”

“Fuck he’s tight!” Damon growled.

All pride cast aside, Theon shrieked at this new burn. His ass clenched trying to keep Damon out but the man was relentless and forced his way in. Damon plundered Theon’s ass with his finger. Despite the oil, Theon felt something tear when a second finger was added. He stiffened when he heard the rustle of Damon breeches behind him and knew the man was pulling out his cock.

“Damon!” Ramsay barked. The rustling stopped, but Theon could feel the heat of Damon’s skin, radiating like a furnace behind him.

“Where are your manners?”

“Wha…?”

Ramsay waved a hand cutting Damon off. “I believe that the saying goes ‘ladies first.’ And after all, Myranda was engaged when we interrupted her _conference_ with the prince. The least we can do is let her finish."

If he’d been able to see behind him, Theon would have noted that Damon’s eyes grew as large as his own. Myranda stepped out of the shadows still nude but for a strapped leather harness on her hips. Attached to this was a large wooden phallus, polished so thoroughly it shone in the dancing torchlight.

“I had this made special, a fitting gift for a slut.” While it was impossible to tell if Ramsay meant his whore or his prisoner, there was no hiding the pride in his voice. The words that followed this however, were clearly intended for Theon.

“The way the leather is fashioned, it should rub your first stud quite pleasurably when she fucks you.”

“Thank you, Milord.” Myranda dipped down and Ramsay caught her mouth in a furious kiss. When he released her, she straightened and shot a wicked grin at Theon. White teeth stained red, her smile was bloody. “I can’t wait to try it.”

With a sharp slap that bounced the fleshy cheek of her ass, Ramsay urged her to get on with it. As she moved over behind Theon, Violet, meanwhile, stepped up along side the couch and allowed Ramsay to pull her down. Straddling her lord’s thighs, back to Theon, she positioned herself above Ramsay’s violent looking cock. She whimpered in pain at the stretch but slowly began to lower herself onto his engorged prick.

When Myranda drew around Theon, Damon growled at her. He was stroking his taut shaft in his hand. It was clear it was all he could do not to bury himself in the presenting ass so wonderfully displayed before him.

“Damon!” Ramsay’s voice was even harsher this time. The growl died down, Ramsay clearly the higher alpha here. “Let Myrand have her turn. You can come in his mouth. Don’t fuck it though. I don’t want anything getting me in the way of watching the bitch’s face.”

A hand on Violet’s shoulder shoved her body sideways even as she painfully settled down on Ramsay, underscoring his determination to keep his eyes on his prize. Theon dipped his head and pressed his face in the cushions, a tiny rebellion, the only one left to him at this point. He screamed into the fabric as behind him Myranda pushed into him far too fast.

“Grab his head, Damon!”

New fingers wound into Theon’s crown and pulled him up.

“Open your eyes bitch!” Damon growled. “Your master wants to see you.”

A harsh blow to Theon’s cheek followed the command. It rattled the bit in his mouth and he felt another fragment of tooth break off. It fell through the “O” to become a bright spot on the dark cushion beneath him.

“Messy bitch.” Skinner snorted off to the side. “You’ll do better, if you know what’s good for you, to keep whatever we feed you inside those sloppy holes of yours.”

Theon fought to open his eyes against the sting of the strike and Skinner’s words. They snapped shut again however, when Myranda pulled her cock out and then rammed it hard into his ass a second time. He would have screamed again, but the force of this and the brutal cadence she quickly set after, jarred all the breath from his lungs.

His bowels were on fire, the urge to shit overwhelming. He was spared this extra humiliation though and, for once, Theon was grateful his stomach spent so much of its time empty.

“Open your eyes!” This time it was Ramsay’s command.

 _Obey! Obey!_ Theon’s splinter-self shrieked in time with each brutal thrust.

When he did open his eyes, Theon wondered if he could have ever commissioned a better picture of hell. There were Bastard Boys on either side of him, eyes hungry, stroking their stiff alpha cocks. In front of him, Violet rutted on Ramsay’s, her cunt stretched, the rim of it red and thin, strained to accommodate. And the enthroned devil himself, Ramsay, appearing completely unmoved, despite how vigorously the beta whore astride him was pumping.

Ramsay’s gaze was so completely focused on him, he seemed oblivious to anything else. The other alpha’s stare was shattering, mesmerizing too somehow, and Theon found he couldn’t look away.

“How is he, Myranda?”

Theon felt thin fingers spread his lash-striped ass cheeks. Tapered fingernails dug into his flesh as his already abused rim was stretched wider by the pull. Myranda removed herself from him too quickly. He sobbed at the ache and the sensation of air on his sensitive skin, devastated he could feel his hole gaping.

There was a breathy groan behind him. “Opened up like the whore he was meant to be, Milord.”

“Must be such a treat for you to fuck an Alpha, my dear. Instead of being on the receiving end.” Ramsay spoke, but his eyes never even flickered up from his prisoner’s face.

“Ah, Yes!” Myranda plunged back in and resumed her pace, chasing after the pleasure she’d been on the verge of before her lord had stopped her. Theon wept at the stab, even more at the excruciating way her every pulse shoved his bound cock up against his make-shift breeding bench.

While Ramsay remained remarkably calm, all around him the air of the cell swirled with cries, growls and grunts. Already stirred by the omega heat scent, their own arousal, and not only Theon’s pained noises but the excited ones from the female betas, his Bastard Boys were quickly losing control.

Myranda let out a yelp of surprise when Alan drew up behind her. No longer able to restrain himself he plunged into her glistening cunt from behind. He fucked into her hard, regardless of her protests, each thrust of his hips driving her deeper into the other alpha beneath her. Filled with thick alpha cock, the harness' friction on her clit quickly overwhelmed. Myranda's hissed curses shifted from disgust to pleasure and it wasn’t long before she came with a gasping cry.

No sooner had her body ceased in its shuddering than Alyn pulled her out of Theon. He pulled himself from her as well, grabbing onto Theon’s hips and forcing his way in. If Theon had felt torn apart by Myranda’s wooden phallus, it had nothing on the girth of Alyn’s alpha cock. Even in the midst of all this horror Theon was struck with a sudden sympathy for all the expressions of discomfort he’d overlooked in the maids he’d bedded over the years.

“Fuck, it’s like you weren’t even in there!” Alyn growled deep in his throat, astounded by the incredibly tight heat surrounding him.

His alphic growl stirred the others around him. It urged Damon to claim, to be the first to mark their prey. Theon’s new screams were cut short when he stuffed his knotting cock deep into the iron “O” and emptied himself down his throat. Damon laughed when Theon couldn’t keep up and choked. He chuckled louder still, watching his spend bubble out of bloodied nostrils.

He’d barely pulled out, Theon given only the scarcest seconds to gasp for breath, when Skinner knocked Damon’s hand aside with a rumble. He seized their bitch’s hair, wrenching Theon’s head his direction, stuffing his own cock into the ring gag.

Unmindful of Violet’s latest orgasm, Ramsay sat entranced by the come that frothed at the corners of Theon’s mouth. He watched blood bloom in the Kraken prince’s eyes at the lack of breath. 

Just as their captive was about to lose consciousness, eyes rolling back, Skinner pulled out. Once he’d spent himself, he pushed the tawny head away.

Released from Skinner's grasp, Theon allowed gravity to take him.  Head hung low, drool and come dripped in thick strings from his mouth, staining dark the upholstery beneath him. He gasped, body heaving, drawing huge draughts of air into his starving lungs. But the air was driven out again by the pain of Alyn’s knotting.

Out of all he’d endured under Ramsay’s torture, nothing compared with this: Theon felt himself being torn asunder as the other alpha swelled and locked within him: body, mind, and spirit rent and unraveled. Hot seed pumped into his bowels. Stomach, already distended from the amount come he’d been forced to swallow, Theon had never felt so full, or so emptied.

Teeth pinched him at the juncture of neck and shoulder but the aproned collar kept the claim from Alyn’s bite.

“Fill him up, Alyn! And you boys get ready, I don’t want his ass empty for a minute. He’s going to need a few loads from each of you if this turning is to be successful.”

That was Ramsay’s voice, but it sounded distant. It was followed by the shriek of a woman’s pain. Theon lifted his head, though it took extraordinary effort.

Ramsay had shoved Violet off and now knelt just in front of him.

Theon’s stomach hitched at the smell of Ramsay’s rut. He gagged as his captor’s knotting cock was shoved into his mouth, just the tip though, as Ramsay was so thick only the head fit past the ring of the bit.

“Don’t you dare think about losing even a single drop, Bitch.”

Hot spend surged into Theon’s mouth. His throat worked furiously to keep up with the amount of fluid Ramsay pumped into him, but it was a losing battle. Bound, broken hands clenched and unclenched as he struggled against the onslaught at both his ends. 

Starved for again air, his world grew dark around the edges. Thoughts tumbled random through his mind, ever more jumbled. Snippets of his past unfurled like a scroll behind his eyes.

When he’d been younger, out on the water, he’d often wondered if he’d meet his end like the god of his clan, but never in his wildest wonderings had he thought he’d be drowned like this.

**Author's Note:**

> Rotten place to end this I know. And I am sorry to say that I suck at any sort of reasonable updating schedule these days. But I'll do my best. My guess at the moment is this will be about five or six chapters, unless the muse strikes or the story proves to be popular.
> 
> If it's any consolation, it's just going to get worse from here for a long time (at least for poor Theon/Reek). Yeah, so you probably don't want to read that. (Though I know you actually do... It's why we're all here after all. ;))
> 
> Anyways, thank you for reading and I hope you'll feel inclined to comment.
> 
> Feral


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